Grieving me

You say you are grieving the woman you once knew

The one before the trauma, the one before the hurt

You think I am different, evil, punishing for having boundaries 

Boundaries that you don’t care about so there must be something wrong with me

You say you are grieving the woman you once knew

But instead of fighting for me, you continue to hold these men up on golden pedestals

You say you are grieving the woman you once knew

But is that true? From over here it is obvious 

You are grieving the ability to take advantage of me, walk all over me, force codependence upon me

You say you are grieving me to hurt me, to draw blood, to make me feel like a shell of trauma

Scary Men

Punching holes in the wall

Breaking the glass of our coffee table

Kicking my childhood cat

Speeding down the driveway with children in the car

Refusing to buy their women flowers out of spite

Angry messages on Facebook saying I’ll regret turning them down 

Telling me they don’t think of me as a human being with feelings

Pretending like they’re going to hit me during arguments

Laughing that victims don’t have enough evidence for justice

Supporting and excusing other men with histories

Believing that consent isn’t important during sex

Feeling more passionate about being against feminists supporting women than Andrew Tate’s ideologies.

A love letter to women

To the women that listen to my fears

Who give me comfort through my tears

And tell me you don’t need to worry about that right now

Who say together we’ll handle my what’s and how’s 

To the women who want to protect me

And keep me safe from things I may not see

Who cherish and preserve the sisterhood

And search the world for every wisp of good

To the women who aren’t afraid to be nasty or mean

So they can fight the men who are scary or obscene 

To the women who are told they’re a little too much

But still know the value of Lilith’s touch 

To the women who believe the girls

Who only wanted a life of kitties and pearls

But were forced into a world of bruises and assault

Only the women know it’s not their fault

To the women who won’t back down

And hold us up so we won’t drown 

To the women who give me hope

And teach me ways to survive and cope

To the women building a better world that’s new 

To these women, I see you.

It is not by job

It is not my job to be pretty

It is not my job to educate him

It is not my job to manage his mental health 

It is not my job to be his secretary 

It is not my job to have bullshit values to not offend him

It is not my job to mother and excuse grown men

It is not my job to be the keeper of his emotional failures

It is not my job to take care of him

It is not my job to be empathetic towards assholes

It is not my job to love men who resent women

It is not my job to support predators 

It is not my job to make him look better

It is not my job to be soft or more palatable 

It is not my job to be on the defensive in the world

It is not my job to make sure he can behave appropriately

It is not my job to be small and skinny

It is not my job to take on his labor that he doesn’t value

And yet, I am the one that’s in the wrong? 

I am the one who is bitter for correcting and setting boundaries?

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

If things get better 

And I can finally breathe again  

If things won’t feel so heavy 

And won’t crush down breaking the bones protecting my heart 

If things settle down 

And I don’t feel angry for things done to me 

If things are learned 

And I don’t have to be afraid of a world that hurts women like me 

If it’s not going to happen today; it’s tomorrow  

And tomorrow  

And tomorrow